


most of all he needs the funk (shine it) help him find the funk

by ashintuku



Series: fox on the run [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Mild Language, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 14:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12014253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “Hey! What was that for?!”“I’ve been followin’ ya fer like, seven minutes, kid.”





	most of all he needs the funk (shine it) help him find the funk

It had never much bothered Tullk that he wasn’t the first mate of the _Eclector_. 

Some of the crew thought he should have been; he was level-headed, smart enough, and knew how to get people moving when they needed to be moving. Even Aleta Ogord had told him that he would be good first mate material, back when she had suggested Yondu Udonta’s ship to serve on. 

Tullk took his previous captain’s words to heart, but it didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t be bothered to be first mate. 

And it wasn’t that he thought he’d make a bad one: he was damn certain he’d make a good first mate at the end of it. But he was more comfortable sticking to the background, giving his advice and keeping an ear to the walls to make sure no one said anything too mutinous about their captain. 

Besides, Kraglin Obfonteri was exactly what the ship needed for a first mate. 

Tullk watched the young man prowl through the halls, a wraith with watchful eyes and twitchy hands; suspicious was practically Kraglin’s middle name at this point, and he would protect the captain with his own life if it came down to it. 

The fact that he was quick to take down any would-be opportunists with the shiv hidden in his coat sleeve helped, too. 

And he was malleable. He could be shaped; guided into the role he slipped so comfortably into, hands bloodied and breath quick. He was still young enough that he didn’t have too many hard-set opinions on damn-near anything, and that was useful to have. 

Tullk was an old fogey. He had his biases, his opinions, and his thoughts set in stone at this point. He and Yondu would butt heads more often than not, neither one of them able to change the other’s mind – and that was _fine_ when it came to private discussions and advising, it’s why he liked it more. He could give his thoughts and Yondu could do whatever the bloody hell he wanted with them. 

But the first mate couldn’t be seen butting heads with the captain. It was, overall, bad for moral. 

Scratching at his throat, he narrowed his eyes as he saw Kraglin stop. The younger man seemed to look around himself, before slipping into a shadowy little corridor. Tullk leaned back against the wall, sucking on his teeth and watching. 

A few minutes later, the young terran lad, Peter, came skulking down the hallway, looking as miserable as ever. Tullk worried over the lad; a Ravager ship was no place for a boy, especially not one filled with more scum and villainy than was average. He got pushed around and teased more than anything, and he took none of it with good grace. Tullk tried his best to soften some of the experiences, but there was only so much he could do. 

Peter passed by the corridor Kraglin had disappeared into, not once looking up; when he had passed it fully, Kraglin stepped out again, following after him. 

Tullk watched, a smile threatening to tug up on his lips. 

A first mate, he knew, had to follow the wishes of the captain, whether they were spoken or not. They protected the captain’s interests, kept an eye on the crew, and made sure everyone was at least content. They led, when the captain himself couldn’t lead, and they took care of the smaller things that the captain couldn’t focus on. 

Kraglin shadowed Peter for a good five minutes, Tullk following at a safe distance; a smile broad on his face now, amusement and approval alike at what he saw. 

The first mate took care of the crew individually while the captain took care of them as a whole. 

Kraglin kicked his foot out, tripping up the boy; letting him fall to his hands and knees without any aid. The boy made a noise, shuffled to his feet, and glared up at Kraglin. 

“Hey! What was that for?!” 

“I’ve been followin’ ya fer like, seven minutes, kid,” Kraglin said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I ain’t even been subtle ‘bout it. Yer clueless – ya gotta pay more attention to wha’s around ya.” 

“Why? I’m on the _ship_.” 

“Ya think this place is _safe_?” Kraglin rolled his eyes, pushing Peter back a step. The boy stumbled, but held his ground, glaring at Kraglin. “No place is ever safe. Even yer own danged home is dangerous. Maybe Terra’s softer’n tha’, but you ain’t _on_ Terra no more.” 

“If I’m so soft, then take me back!” 

Kraglin pursed his lips. 

Tullk had the funny feeling that Kraglin didn’t much like Peter, some days. Other days, he was fine with the kid; or, if not fine, then at least indifferent. He had his moments where he even liked the boy, and it was those days where he acted it. But some days, there was a little bit of resentment from Kraglin towards Peter. Tullk couldn’t decide if it was because the boy was the catalyst to their exile, or if it was because of how Yondu looked after the boy and seemed to favour him above everyone else. 

(Tullk thought it was the captain’s attempt to regain the family he’d lost in the other Ravagers; either that, or plain guilt was motivating the captain at this point, and he fathered the boy because he knew what his father was really like. He kept _these_ opinions to himself – he wasn’t suicidal.) 

“Cap’n already told you, there ain’t no goin’ back t’Terra,” Kraglin finally said, dropping his arms, hands on his hips as he stared the terran boy down. “So it’s best ya learn t’watch out fer yerself.” 

“Why do you even _care_?” 

“I don’t.” Kraglin shrugged when Peter ogled at him, and Tullk snorted to himself. “Don’t care a whit if ya get beaten up ‘round here or not. But I’m thinkin’ _you_ do, yeah?” Peter scowled at Kraglin, but nodded after a moment. Kraglin nodded back. “Thought so – so I’m gon’ show ya some stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff?” 

“Stuff that’ll help ya. Used to be small like you, once – used to fight big guys all the time. Weren’t my personal choice, but it was life. An’ now that’s _yer_ life. You don’t wanna get beaten up all the time, I don’t wanna deal with a whiny kid bleedin’ all over the place, an’ this way, _nobody_ bothers the Cap’n ‘bout dumbass things.” Kraglin paused again, waiting; Peter grudgingly nodded in agreement. “Good. First thing t’know – _pay attention_. Nobody’ll get the jump on ya if ya already know they’re there. If ya gotta, think tha’ someone’s always waitin’ fer ya.” 

“But they’re _not_.” 

“ _Pretend_ , ya doofus.” 

Tullk slipped away from the two of them, making his way back to the bridge. They’d be fine.

~+~

After that first day, Tullk noticed similar instances happening constantly. 

Kraglin took to shadowing Peter when he wasn’t busy doing something for the captain or for the ship as a whole. He gave the boy quick lessons, teaching him how to watch out for himself; it got to the point where Peter was practically as quiet as Kraglin himself walking the halls, when he thought to be. He definitely used his new sneaking abilities for mischief, but he was only little: it was allowed, to an extent. 

Kraglin wasn’t the only one teaching him things, of course. Oblo taught him sleight of hand, and Horuz taught him how to barter. The captain himself taught him basic self-defence on the off-hours, tossing him about empty hallways and the docking bay with a harsh bark but gentle hands when he helped him back to his feet. 

But Kraglin taught him how to fight against those bigger than him with just his hands and his wits, and it was probably those lessons that helped him come out of Yondu’s without much more than a few bruises and a limp. 

Tullk stuck to the background, watching Kraglin’s interactions with the boy and trying to figure out his motives. No one else on the crew seemed to notice what was happening; or if they did, they just didn’t care at the end of the day. A few of the newer crew just scoffed whenever they saw the two youngest members together, not paying attention to what they were doing. 

He came across them one day in one of the storage units. Kraglin was blocking jabs and hits and throws that Peter made at him, looking bored out of his mind; Peter just continued to look frustrated. Stepping back to keep out of sight, the older Ravager watched. 

“I’d say ya weren’t even tryin’, but th’fact that yer pantin’ and sweatin’ says otherwise. S’just pathetic, kid.” 

“I’m _eight_! You’re an adult! I shouldn’t be fighting you at all!” 

“Shit, Terra’s sheltered.” Kraglin shoved Peter away, the boy stumbling back a few steps before catching himself. The terran glared at the Xandarian. Kraglin rolled his eyes. “When y’say tha’ to the others of the crew wha’ pick on ya, do they stop?” 

“...No.” 

“Do they laugh?” 

“...” Peter rubbed at his face, staring at his shoes. “Yes.” 

“Yeah, ‘course they do – ‘cause that kind’a logic’s _bullshit_. Yer smaller’n ‘em, an’ weaker’n ‘em an’ an easy target. S’funny to make ya get all red faced an’ frustrated; least it is t’them. So ya gotta stop makin’ it funny.” 

“But it’s not my fault they’re mean!” 

“World don’t give a shit, Quill,” Kraglin said, arms crossed over his chest. “Galaxy gives even less. Y’can say it all ya want, an’ no one’s gonna care no matter how true it is. So instead’a _whinin’_ , ya gotta make it not-funny. Make it annoyin’. Make it somethin’ they don’t wanna do.” 

“ _How_?” 

“Make ‘em regret it. Ya ain’t ever gon’ be able to get ‘em in the face an’ ya can’t reach the chest t’push ‘em away. Y’could go fer the groin, but not all’a the crew’s sensitive t’that. We all got knees, though.” 

“...So?” 

“Punch ‘em in the knee. Hurts like a bitch, they’ll go down, an’ suddenly their face is right there. Or y’could get ‘em in the stomach once they’re down, double’em over – give ya time t’run. Go fer the throat if ya wanna make ‘em suffer a bit.” 

“But what if there are a lot of them?” 

“Y’can’t push through ‘em, yer too little. An’ y’can’t take ‘em all on, yer too weak. But yer quick, an’ skinny, an’ can slip through small places. Slip under ‘em, make a run fer it. Make a lot’a noise when ya do it. Some of the crew that ain’t assholes’ll probably come see wha’ the ruckus is about.” 

Peter narrowed his eyes at Kraglin suspiciously. 

“How do you know about all this stuff anyway?” 

Kraglin paused, looking at Peter warily, before shrugging. 

“Grew up in a shittier place than this, is all; only way I kept goin’ was t’learn. Ya didn’t learn ya ended up dead with yer throat slit in yer sleep. Now you gonna listen t’me or not?”

Peter frowned at Kraglin, staring at him long and hard, before his shoulders slumped and he kicked at the ground. 

“...Show me how to punch someone.” 

“Ain’t you never punched someone before?” 

“Mom didn’t like me fighting.” 

Tullk watched as Kraglin pressed his lips together, his expression tight, before he snorted. 

“Make a fist—not like _that_ , numbskull, yer gon’ break yer thumb! Like _this_.” 

Shaking his head, the older Ravager turned around and left the way he came. 

~+~

The weeks of tips and tricks and so-called training eventually culminated when one of the new recruits – an asshole who called himself Retch, with attitude problems and a thing about harassing bodies tinier than him – decided to give Peter a hard time. 

By the time Tullk realized something was happening Peter was already against a wall with Retch and a few others, and Halfnut – bloody imbecile – had what looked like an old-fashioned photograph in his hands; holding it above Peter’s head. 

“What’s this, huh? What’s this?” 

“Give it _back_!” 

“Give it _back_ ,” Retch mocked, pitching his voice high and baby-like. Peter made a frustrated sound, jumping up to try and grab at the picture. Halfnut kept holding it just out of reach of his hands. “S’a pretty lady picture, is what it is – ain’t you too young for those?” 

“It’s my _mom_!” 

“Your momma!” Retch grabbed the picture, looking at it again. He stepped out of the way as Peter lurched for him. Tullk started pushing his way through the milling crowd just watching. He saw Kraglin doing the same. “Well, isn’t she dead? Huh? She’s dead right? Hah!” He pointed at Peter, grin splitting his face. “Look, he’s cryin’! Ain’t that flarkin’ _precious_!” 

“Crying for his momma!” 

“Mommy, mommy!” 

“Shut it!” 

“Why you carrying around a picture of your momma, Petey? Huh? Huh? Why you carrying it around? She’s _dead_ , Petey, don’t ya know. Means you don’t _need_ this no more, huh? Right? Right!” 

Retch then held the picture in both hands, ripping it slowly down the middle. 

A few things happened at once. 

First, Peter punched Retch right in the knee, bringing him down to level, and then punched him again in the throat; second, Kraglin and Tullk finally got through the crowd, yanking Halfnut and another one of Retch’s friends, guy named Narblik, away so they couldn’t get to the boy; and third, a loud, sharp whistle filled the hallway, and everyone went dead-still as the captain’s Yaka arrow weaved through them and stopped just in front of Retch’s eye. 

The crowd split as Yondu walked through them; Tullk tightened his hold on a struggling Narblik, nodding to the Centaurian as he came up to them. 

“The _hell_ is goin’ on here?” 

“We was just—”

“I ain’t talkin’ t’you, jackass.” Yondu looked to Kraglin, then, raising his eyebrows. “Well?” 

“Crew was messin’ around with Quill,” Kraglin said after a moment. “Stole somethin’ of his. Looks like they damaged it.” 

Kraglin pointed to the pieces of picture still on the ground. Yondu eyed it, and Tullk shifted; waiting to see what would happen. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have t’go over the rules on board my ship again, huh?” Yondu said, hands on his hips. Tullk grinned and Kraglin smirked. 

“Cap’n’s gonna learn ya!” 

“Alright, idiots! Listen up, ‘cause I ain’t explainin’ this again!” Yondu turned to face the majority of the crew gathered in the hallway. There really weren’t a lot of them, even with some lingering in the back; many were at their posts, or sleeping, or doing something actually productive with their time. “There are only a few rules on this here ship, and they’re simple enough that even you empty-headed dimwits can understand ‘em! Mr Tullk!” 

“Sir!” 

“What is the first rule aboard this ship?” 

“Do your goddamn job right the first time and you’ll only have ta do it the one time!” 

“What is the second rule, Mr Tullk?” 

“Everyone who does the job gets a share of the take! Not part of the job, not part of the payroll!” 

Yondu picked at his teeth with a fingernail; the Yaka still floating precariously in front of Retch’s eye. Retch was breathing shallowly, and Peter was watching everything with a scowl and confusion. Tullk waited for the captain to continue. 

“And finally, Mr Tullk,” Yondu drawled, and the older Ravager turned back to look at him, “wha’ is the _third_ rule on this ship?” 

“We don’t steal from each other! And if you _do_ , ya sure as _hell_ don’t damage their goddamn property!” 

“See? Simple enough, isn’t it boys? Now wha’ did ya go and do?” Yondu cocked his head, and Tullk watched the bitten-back anger in his red eyes. Others might have just seen a man vaguely annoyed with a rowdy crew; Tullk knew better. He’d been by the captain’s side since he got his ship and started his crew; knew enough by now to know that Yondu had adopted the boy as one of his people, for all that meant, and he didn’t want anybody messing with his boy. 

“Capt’n—”

“Ya went and ya broke the third rule. Now usually, I’d let the boy decide how to take care of this – his property you went an’ broke. But I think he went and did wha’ he could t’make ya _regret_ it. Yer knee still hurting, dumbass? Yer throat?” Yondu looked at Retch, grinning when Retch only nodded, still kneeling on the ground and rubbing at his throat. “Yeup – I imagine it is. You and yer friends’re gonna be on cleanin’ duty fer the next two week’s work roster. Yer cleanin’ the waste chutes, an’ disposin’ of anything that didn’t get chucked out. I think that sounds fair.” 

Yondu looked around the hallway, then, whistled, and the Yaka flew back to him. He caught it and shoved it back in its holster, waving his other hand in dismissal. 

“Get back to your goddamn jobs, ya d’ast idiots.” 

The crew parted in different ways, muttering to themselves. Tullk pushed Narblik away, and Kraglin let go of Halfnut with a snort and a shake of his head. The two helped Retch to his feet, and they scuttled off who-knew-where. Peter stayed put, staring down at the ripped picture on the ground. 

He eventually picked up the pieces, pocketing the two halves and hunching his shoulders. Tullk watched as the captain and first mate went up to him. 

“Ya did a good job there, boy,” Yondu said after a moment. “Where’d you go and learn how t’do tha’, then?” 

“...” Peter pressed his mouth shut tightly together, glaring at the floor. 

“Boy...” 

“Learned it around,” he finally mumbled, looking up at him through his bangs. “Can I go?” 

Yondu looked like he was going to say something else, before he snorted out a sigh and jerked his head in a nod. Peter walked away, quick and quiet-like; disappearing down the hallway without another word. 

“Go make sure no one else bothers him, Kraglin,” Yondu said after a moment. Kraglin wrinkled his nose but nodded, hurrying after the kid; a silent shadow. Tullk crossed his arms and Yondu looked over at him. “...He been teachin’ him long?” 

“Long enough,” Tullk said with a shrug. “I think ‘tis good for the boy, captain. Nobody better than Kraglin to teach him, don’t ya think?” 

Yondu narrowed his eyes, chewing the inside of his cheek, before he gave a noncommittal grunt. He turned and started to head towards the bridge; after a moment, Tullk followed after him, smiling. 

It had never much bothered Tullk that he wasn’t first mate of the _Eclector_. He was quite happy just where he was.


End file.
